


Under Your Spell

by southsidewrites



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love, Romance, Yule Ball (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21980350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southsidewrites/pseuds/southsidewrites
Summary: You've had a crush on Sweet Pea for years, and you want nothing more than to go to the annual Yule Ball with him. However, when Fangs has an idea that would guarantee he says yes, you're not so sure about it.
Relationships: Sweet Pea (Riverdale)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39
Collections: A Very Merry Serpent Hissmas, Home for the HoliDale





	Under Your Spell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bottomoftheheap](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottomoftheheap/gifts).



> This fic was written for the Southside Archive's Southside Secret Santa as a gift for the lovely @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle. I hope you enjoy it, Vannah!
> 
> Beta-ed by @rivendell101

The Great Hall was an explosion of chatter and excitement. Headmaster McGonagall had just made the announcement—everyone fourth year and older would be permitted to attend the annual Yule Ball, a tradition started in the years after the Second Wizarding War to build community and spread some holiday joy. Nearly everyone was leaping out of their seats with excitement, already eyeing up their classmates and working up the courage to ask the person they fancied.

Even you had to admit that it was pretty exciting. As a sixth year, you had never actually gone to the ball. Not only did you never have a date, you absolutely couldn’t bear to see the only person you wanted to go with dancing with some other girl. Every year, he had been asked within seconds of the ball being announced, if not before the announcement. He’d even been invited as a Third Year, already one of the stars of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and one of the most popular boys in the school.

It was easier to just stay home, curled into your favorite plush chair in the Hufflepuff common room with a cat on your lap and a book in hand.

“Hey, did you hear me?” Fangs voice cut through your dazed reverie, and you remembered to bring your spoonful of soup the rest of the way to your mouth.

“What, Fangs?” you asked, trying to hide the grumpiness from your tone.

“Jeez, who put itching powder in your knickers?” he grumbled, his eyebrows rising.

Fangs had been your best friend since first year, ever since you ended up sorted into the same house—two nervous eleven-year-olds crammed together on the slightly too-big bench with older students congratulating you from all sides. You had been a little shier than Fangs, mostly because everyone was a little shier than Fangs, but he was just so easy to talk to. The two of you were inseparable before the welcome banquet even ended.

“No one, you moron,” you grumbled back, taking a big sip of pumpkin juice. “Just not in a great mood today.”

“I know, I know,” he drawled, dragging his spoon through his food with a dramatic sigh. “I’m still mourning our disappointing Quidditch defeat, too.”

You rolled your eyes. Fangs was a beater for the Hufflepuff team, and Gryffindor had absolutely destroyed them the night before. It was a fact you had been all too aware of when you slipped into their common room for the party, curling up on the couch with a certain stunningly gorgeous chaser and—

“Did someone say Quidditch defeat?” Sweet Pea slid effortlessly into place across from you and Fangs, nearly knocking over a confused first year who happened to be sitting a little too close. “That was one ugly game, wasn’t it?” he asked with a wink in Fangs’ direction.

“Bloody hell, Sweet Pea, get out of here,” Fangs grumbled. “This isn’t even your table.”

“And it’s not an official school function, so I can sit wherever I please,” Sweet Pea retorted, flashing a charming grin as he snagged a roll off a nearby platter. “School unity, Fangs, remember?”

Fangs grumbled something rude in response, and your heart took off at a lightning-fast pace. Sweet Pea. You hadn’t been able to get your mind off him since last night, since he wrapped his arm around you on the couch, still windswept from the game with the faint scent of firewhisky on his breath. The excitement had been high in the Gryffindor common room, and everyone was there, even most of the defeated Hufflepuffs. You didn’t know how you ended up on the couch next to him, nearly every inch of your body pressed into his in the unbelievably cramped room. And now, he was in front of you, his lips moving and his expression— _oh, shit—he’s talking to me._

“I—um—” you sputtered. “What was that?”

Sweet Pea rolled his eyes and flashed that heart-breaking grin again. “Distracted by my dazzling good looks?”

You forced a sharp laugh, praying that it didn’t sound as painful as it felt. From next to you, you could practically feel the amused look Fangs was giving you.

“Not a chance, Sweet Pea.” You took a deep breath, steadying your nerves. This was Sweet Pea, one of your best friends in the whole world and absolutely not someone you were supposed to have a crush on. “If anything, I was distracted by that weird smile you keep making.” Your lips curved into a grin, and he tossed the half-eaten roll he was holding at you, the bread bouncing harmlessly off your shoulder.

“I don’t know why I put up with this garbage,” he replied, grabbing a fresh roll and taking a bite. “I bet no one would make fun of me at the Gryffindor table.”

“And you’re welcome to go sit there,” Fangs replied, giving a pointed look to the table where the rest of the Gryffindor team was sitting. “I’m sure Mantle makes great company.”

Sweet Pea rolled his eyes so hard that they looked like they might get stuck that way. “What Professor Wood was thinking making us co-captains, I’ll never know. He’s such a bloody—”

“Language, Sweet Pea,” Professor Prescott sighed as she walked by. “It’s not Christmas holiday quite yet.”

He put on his most charming grin. “Of course, Professor.”

She sighed through her nose, her lips pressed together in a tight line as she shook her head. “Just a few more days,” she murmured, mostly to herself.

“It’s truly a wonder you’re not expelled yet, Sweet Pea,” you mused, kicking him lightly under the table. “You’re lucky Professor Krum has taken a liking toward you.”

He grinned. “What can I say? The man knows a Quidditch star when he sees one.”

Fangs groaned, nearly dropping his fork with annoyance. “Mantle’s rubbing off on you, Sweet Pea.”

“He better not be,” Sweet Pea said with a grin. “He’s already got a girlfriend to be rubbing one off on.”

“Sweet Pea, that’s—”

“Gotta go!” he replied with a laugh, nearly knocking over the same first year as he leaped out of the seat. “Doesn’t look good when the captain is late to practice.”

You couldn’t contain your smile as you watched him walk off, still laughing at his own terrible joke. Your heart was still doing somersaults in your chest, and all you could think about was that stupidly charming grin he kept flashing you. You wondered if he had been thinking about the night before, too, if the memory of every innocent touch still burned like fire on his skin.

“So, when are you going to ask him to the ball?” Fangs asked, barely looking up from his plate.

“What?” you snapped, dropping your spoon into your soup bowl with a clatter. “What are you—I—you—he— _be quiet, Fangs!_ ”

He started laughing, using a napkin to wipe up the splattered soup. “What?” he chuckled. “It’s only entirely obvious to anyone with eyes that you fancy him.”

“Fangs, shut up!” you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot. “I do not fancy him!”

“Sure,” he drawled, nodding skeptically. “And I’m secretly a dragon.”

“Sweet Pea is one of our best friends, Fangs. I cannot fancy him.”

Fangs looked very tempted to roll his eyes, but he managed not to. “And Joaquin’s also one of our best friends, but that didn’t stop me from fancying him until third year.”

“Okay, but that’s different.”

“Yeah, because we went on one terrible date and determined it was a bad idea.” He gave you a firm look. “Meanwhile, all you and Sweet Pea have done is make googly eyes at each other in class and get dangerously close to drunken kisses after Quidditch games.”

“That is not true!” you snapped, your face heating up in a deep blush. “We have never gotten anywhere near kissing. Anyways—” Your voice dropped to a whisper. “Even if I did fancy him—which I absolutely do not—it’s not like he fancies me. He’s had a million and one chances to ask me on a date, and he never has. There’s no way I’m asking him to the Yule Ball.”

A mischievous glint flashed in Fangs’ eyes. “What if I told you there was a way I could make you feel a bit more confident in his response?”

Your eyes narrowed skeptically—it was never good when Fangs got that look. Last time he had looked at you that way, you, Toni, Jughead, and Sweet Pea had all landed in detention with him for _“harassing the giant squid.”_ As if you had even _seen_ the giant squid.

“What are you proposing, Fogarty?”

“Just trust me.” He grinned, that dumb, charming grin that he used on professors when he didn’t have a good excuse for his late assignments. “And meet me outside the Slytherin common room at midnight tonight.”

“Midnight outside the Slytherin common room?” You held his gaze, crossing your arms over your chest. “That has got to be one of the dumbest ideas I’ve ever heard.”

“But will you do it?”

Something unfamiliar pricked at your chest, a little pang that made it feel hard to breathe. The thought of asking Sweet Pea to the ball was insane, but at the same time, it was something you had been dreaming about for years now. The thought that it might actually become a reality… “Fine, I’ll be there.”

“Excellent.” He grinned, swiping his bag off of the bench next to him and getting up from the table. “I’ll see you tonight then.”

“I’ll see you tonight.” As you watched him walk out of the Great Hall, you couldn’t help but think whatever he had planned would be an absolutely terrible idea.

* * *

By the time you managed to slip out of your dorm and sneak to the dungeons, it was a few minutes after midnight. Luckily, Fangs was far from sneaky, and it was easy to find him toward the end of an empty corridor with another shadowy figure. They were lit by nothing but candlelight, and you couldn’t make out who the second person was until you were nearly on top of them.

When you saw who Fangs was standing with, your jaw dropped. “Fangs, what the hell is this? Kurtz?”

Fangs shrugged, and Kurtz flashed you a grin that made your skin crawl. He was a Slytherin seventh year and one of the all-around creepiest guys at Hogwarts, best known for selling sketchy potions and potentially dangerous magical gags. He seemed to fancy himself a modern-day Fred and George Weasley, but his reputation was less beloved class clown and more skeevy kid who should have been expelled a long time ago.

“He’s the guy who has the stuff,” Fangs said, the _duh_ evident in his tone. “Where else do you plan on getting mildly forbidden potions?”

“ _Mildly forbidden potions?”_ you snapped, quickly lowering your voice. “Why on earth do I need a mildly forbidden potion?”

Kurtz had started pulling a seemingly endless number of belts and bags out of his robes. Each one was labelled in illegible handwriting, filled with potions of every size, shape and color. Some bubbled suspiciously, and one particularly large bottle even seemed to be shaking slightly. He was muttering to himself, fishing around in the folds of his robe looking for the right potion.

“I don’t deal in _truly_ illegal stuff,” Kurtz added incredibly un-helpfully. “Just the stuff ol’ McGonagall doesn’t think is _‘befitting’_ of Hogwarts students.”

Your eyes widened as he handed you a small vial filled with a deep red liquid. “This one’s one of Doiley’s specialties—his very own brew. It’s a solid mid-level love potion, lasts an hour or two, tops, and is completely undetectable in food or drink. It’s also—”

“A love potion?” Your jaw dropped, and you forced the potion back into his hand. “No way. Fangs—what the hell are you thinking? There’s a reason love potions are barely legal.”

Fangs rolled his eyes. “Would you just listen to the man? He wasn’t done yet.”

“And what could he possibly say that would make this _not_ creepy?” You crossed your arms, looking between the disheveled potion dealer and your best friend. “Love potions are horrible, Fangs, and there is no way you’re convincing me to use one.”

Kurtz handed you the potion again, clearing his throat to continue. “Like I said, this is one of Doiley’s custom brews. It’s a mid-level potion. Better than the sickle shit you get at prank shops, but nothing like the illegal stuff you could buy in Knockturn Alley. It’s entirely harmless, no lasting effects, and it’s not strong enough to make anyone do something they _really_ don’t want to do.” He shrugged. “Even I’m not stupid enough to move that kind of product on school grounds.”

“Oh, but you would if you weren’t on school grounds?” You gave the older boy a hard look, shaking your head as you turned on Fangs. “I am _not_ drugging Sweet Pea.”

“Don’t think of it as drugging,” he offered with a weak smile. “Think of it as loosening him up a bit. Merlin knows the guy would say yes anyways—this is just to give you a little more confidence.”

“Fangs, I—” You cut off, his words sinking in. “Wait, you think—you think he’d say yes anyways?”

“Of course, I do.” Fangs said softly, reaching out to close your fingers around the small vial. “Hell, I don’t even think you need a love potion, but if that’ll give you the courage to ask him…” he trailed off.

You let out a long, slow breath, your gaze flicking between the two boys. Could Fangs be right? Would Sweet Pea really say yes without the potion? Was it absolutely wrong to slip it to him? Would you even be able to go through with it? What if he said no anyways?

“May as well take it,” Kurtz drawled, shoving his bags back into his robes. “Fogarty already paid, and it won’t go bad. Use it now, use it later, flush it, I don’t care. Just be sure to complain to Doiley if it doesn’t work—last thing I need is a shitty supplier.”

“Fine,” you finally breathed, slipping the potion into the pocket of your robe. “I’ll keep it for now.”

Kurts grinned again, that horrible, cat-like grin that made your stomach turn. “Good luck, little lady—and feel free to let me know if he breaks your heart and you’re in need of a shoulder to cry on.”

A shudder ran through your body, and you didn’t bother to contain your disgusted expression. “No thanks.”

“Whatever you say.” With that, he turned down what you could have sworn was a dead end and disappeared.

“Fangs, I don’t even want to know how you found out about this,” you said, shouldering past him and back down the corridor. “Who on earth have you been drugging?”

“No one!” he replied quickly, jogging to catch up with you. “Just a little luck potion every now and then before a big test or something.”

“Fangs!”

“I’m kidding!” He laughed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and messing up your hair. “Jughead mentioned to me that Dilton sometimes works on sketchy potions in their dorm, so it wasn’t hard to find out who was selling for him. Merlin knows Dilton isn’t using the volume of love potions he’s producing—the guy’s practically girl-repellent.”

You sighed, running your hand through your hair exasperatedly. “This is a terrible idea, Fangs.”

He grinned. “All my best ones are.”

* * *

You tipped your head back on the cool stone bench, relishing the chill as it crept through your thick cloak. It was the last day of classes, and your friends had all met in one of the lesser-used courtyards with mugs of hot, spiked butterbeer to celebrate. It was Fangs’ special brew, featuring some kind of spiced liqueur because the alcohol already in the drink _‘just wasn’t enough’_ according to him.

Across from you, Jughead and Toni were crammed together on another bench, all their attention on Toni’s camera as they murmured about lighting and magical shutter speeds. Unlike Jughead, who was born into a magical family, Toni hadn’t been introduced to magical photography until she got to Hogwarts. The two Ravenclaws bonded over the hobby quickly, though, teaching each other about their cameras and working together to capture some of the loveliest pictures of Hogwarts you’d ever seen. 

At the moment, though, they were bickering about which lighting was the best to capture snowflakes mid-fall. You smirked, the sound of their silly argument one of the most welcoming and familiar you could imagine.

On the ground next to you, Fangs was sitting in the snow, his cloak splayed on the ground below him to keep him dry. His wand was in hand as he levitated and flung snowballs at unsuspecting people walking by. One particularly bulky Slytherin took one to the temple and cursed, tugging his wand out of his pocket to cast a hex but changing his mind when he saw your hand moving toward your own wand.

Your friend group was an odd one—a mix of all four houses and known for how tight-knit you were. No one dared to start a fight with one of you because they knew it meant starting a fight with all of you, and while Jughead may not look like much, the guy could cast a mean curse.

Once the Slytherin was gone, Fangs resumed his pestering, sending snowball after snowball flying. “Hey, check this one out,” Fangs murmured, nudging you slightly with his elbow and pointing at a new group of people.

When you say who it was, you sighed. “Fangs, do you really have to—”

Before you could get the words out, he sent a flurry of snowballs, pelting Chuck, Reggie, and Archie the second they walked into the courtyard.

Laughing, Reggie flung a few back. “Whole lot better with snowballs then a bludger, aren’t you, Fogarty?”

“Ha, ha,” Fangs replied with an eye roll. “You guys get one lucky win and hold onto it forever.”

“Luck?” Chuck laughed, plopping onto the open spot on the bench next to you and kicking some snow at Fangs. “That was pure skill, and you know it.” Grinning, he shifted his attention to you. “So, hear you don’t have a date to the Yule Ball yet.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, I do not, Chuck.”

“You want one?” His grin widened, his warm brown eyes fixing on you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

You thought about just how badly you did want one, but it wasn’t him. “Thanks, but no thanks, Clayton,” you said, shaking his arm off.

His grin didn’t waver in the slightest—you were probably one of many girls he planned to ask last-minute. “That’s a shame—I’d have shown you an _amazing_ time.”

Even Reggie rolled his eyes at that one, and you waited patiently for Chuck to get off the bench and return to his friends. As soon as he did, your grip tightened on the mug sitting next to you. It was the mug saved for Sweet Pea, the drink with one extra ingredient added.

You bit your lip nervously, the thought of him drinking it making your gut turn. Maybe it would just be easier to dump it in the snow and take Chuck up on his offer. Sweet Pea probably already had a date—some girl always managed to ask him within minutes, so who was to say that this year would be any different? And Chuck wasn’t _that_ bad—a little bit of a tosser, sure, but not entirely insufferable. Maybe he wouldn’t be the worst person to go with.

After all, all of your friends pretty much had dates already. Jughead was going with Betty, Toni with Cheryl, and Joaquin with Kevin. Fangs didn’t have a date yet, but that was only because he was taking his time picking from the line of people who had asked him. And it would suck massively to be stuck at home knowing everyone else was at the ball having fun without you. Before you could contemplate that too thoroughly and make yourself even more miserable, though, someone was sitting next to you, and you forgot how to think.

“Oh sweet, is this mine?” Sweet Pea asked, snatching the mug and popping off the top. “You guys don’t know how bad I need this right now—Professor Farley kept me late after class.” He started to lift the mug to his mouth for a sip, running his hand through his messy hair.

“What’d you do?” Toni asked, smirking as she looked up at him.

“Toni, why would you assume I did something?” He scoffed, lowering the mug before his lips touched it. “Maybe Farley’s just a hard-ass.”

She held his gaze. “What did you do, Sweet Pea?”

He waved her off. “All I did was blow up a few desks—a simple miscalculation, really. How was I to know that doxy egg and doxy venom would have wildly different effects in a simple sleeping draught?”

You found yourself laughing, caught up in his easy laugh and almost forgetting what you’d put in his mug. “Sweet Pea, that’s—" You stopped short when he finally took a sip, sighing when he tasted the warm liquid.

“Damn, Fangs, that stuff’s great. Really hits the spot.”

Your heart froze in your chest, and you barely managed to snap your mouth shut. Sweet Pea was still talking, making some dumb joke about Fangs’ recipe, but all you could hear was the pounding of your heart in your chest. Love potions hit hard and fast, and it would only be seconds before Sweet Pea would be under its effects.

Fangs was watching carefully, his eyes flitting between you and Sweet Pea. You caught his gaze, praying that your expression wasn’t giving anything away.

But nothing happened.

Sweet Pea was still completely casual, using his wand to juggle snowballs and threaten Jughead with them. “So,” he said, turning to face you with his usual grin. “Have any plans for the ball yet? I know Chuck said he was going to ask you, and—”

“I said no,” you snapped, your tone coming out harsher than you intended. “And I’m not going.” Your mind was racing— _why didn’t the potion work?_ Sweet Pea was still being his normal self. Love potions made people obsessed—even the mild ones had noticeable effects. But Sweet Pea had asked you about Chuck, _Chuck fucking Clayton._

“Why, did something—”

“I’ve got to go.” Quickly, you scooped up your bag, knocking your mug over in the process and not caring where it fell. Clearly, the potion hadn’t worked, and all you could think of were Kurtz’s words from the night before:

_“It’s not strong enough to make anyone do something they really don’t want to do.”_

Sweet Pea wanted nothing to do with you—the potion hadn’t even been enough to make him fancy you in the slightest.

Your feet were moving faster than your brain, and you ignored Fangs’ call as you darted across the courtyard. You had been right, and Sweet Pea would never think of you as more than a friend. You had been stupid for ever thinking otherwise, and now you were going to hole up somewhere with your cat and a book and not come out until you forgot how absolutely embarrassed you were.

* * *

“Alright, Doiley, you better have a damn good answer for why that potion didn’t work,” Fangs growled, his fists clenched around the collar of Dilton’s robes as he held the shorter boy against a wall. “Kurtz told me all your potions are good, but this one wasn’t.”

Dilton was surprisingly calm for being held against a wall with a much taller and bulkier person mere seconds away from slamming a fist into his face—it was a common enough result of brewing illicit potions.

“All my potions work, Fogarty,” he answered, holding his hands up in surrender. “Especially those love potions—they’re my specialty.”

“Well, your specialty is shit because it didn’t work.” His grip tightened, and he pressed the Ravenclaw even harder into the stone wall.

“Who says it didn’t work?” he retorted. “Did Sweet Pea reject her?”

“No, but—”

“Because there’s only a few things that cancel out a love potion, all of which are a whole lot more likely than my potion being faulty.”

“Like what?”

Dilton sighed. “Am I the only one around here who pays attention in Potions? There’s a long list of reasons why—”

“Spare me the lecture, Doiley,” Fangs growled, his fists tightening around the boy’s robes as he lifted him a few inches off the ground.

“Fine.” He looked up at Fangs, trying to bite back his annoyance. “Have you considered that there might not have been any need for the potion in the first place?”

* * *

You kept your eyes fixed on the window, watching as the snowflakes fell silently over the grounds. The library was always quiet this time of year, and you were able to snag your favorite spot: a cozy reading nook near a fireplace that had a big window with a great view of the Hogwarts grounds.

Of course, the love potion had been a terrible idea, and you had no idea how Fangs managed to convince you otherwise. Messing with love potions was always risky, and now you had all the proof you needed that Sweet Pea didn’t feel the same way. You sighed, your breath fogging up the window as you rested your forehead on the cool glass.

Just as you were about to slump deeper into the seat for a more thorough moping, though, you heard a sound behind you. With a start, you turned around, your heart racing. When you saw who it was, your jaw dropped.

Sweet Pea ran his hand through his hair before awkwardly grabbing the back of his neck. He looked up at you sheepishly. “Hey, can we talk?”

“I—uh—” You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to nod. “Of course.” Scooting over, you made room for him in the reading nook, wrapping your robes more tightly around yourself in an attempt to keep your cool.

Sweet Pea settled into the spot next to you, tucking his long legs under him as he crammed into the cozy space. His legs were brushing against yours, and you attempted to make yourself as small as possible.

For a moment, you were both silent—the only two people in the otherwise abandoned library. The only sound was your soft breathing and the whine of the wind picking up outside. Then, just when you thought you might explode from anxiety, you both spoke.

“I slipped you a love potion.”

“Will you go to the ball with me?”

You froze, not sure if you heard him right. Your eyebrows furrowed, and you cocked your head slightly to the side. Next to you, Sweet Pea was doing about the same, his brown eyes narrowed in absolute confusion. You opened your mouth to speak, and he did the same, your words tangling together in a confused mess as you both tried to explain yourselves.

Sweet Pea starting laughing, holding up a hand to stop you. “How about we try one at a time.”

“Sweet Pea, I can explain,” you breathed. Your heart squeezed in your chest, and your stomach felt like a sinking pit. “I really regret getting the love potion—I didn’t want to make you do anything you didn’t want. I just—” You took a deep breath, your hands clenching together in your lap. “I just wanted to feel a little more confident that if I asked you to the ball, you’d say yes.”

His grin widened, and he shook his head like he was trying to stifle a laugh. “Seriously? Because I had just slammed some sketchy courage potion from Kurtz trying to do the same thing.”

“Wait—” Your eyes widened, and you had to bite back a chuckle. “ _You_ got a sketchy courage potion to try to ask _me_ out? On the same day _I_ got a sketchy love potion to try to ask _you_ out?”

He nodded, a hot red blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks. “I’d been trying to work up the nerve to do it since McGonagall announced the date. Then, Archie told me about the stuff Kurtz sold and how he occasionally got some luck potions before a big exam, and I—” He sighed. “Clearly, I’m a colossal idiot.”

“Um, no way.” You shook your head hard, grabbing his hand and taking it in yours. “I believe I’m the colossal idiot here. A courage potion makes so much more sense than a love potion. Infinitely less creepy.”

He laughed, lacing his fingers with yours as he scooted a little closer. “Maybe.” He shrugged. “But I guess the end result was the same, right?”

You looked up at him, your breath catching when you realized just how close you were to each other. Then, a thought struck you. “But why didn’t it work?”

“Why didn’t what work?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“The love potion—it didn’t work. Nothing happened to you even though there was a ton in that butterbeer.” Your lips pursed as you tried to run it over in your mind. Unless the courage potion cancelled it out somehow, it still should have worked.

Sweet Pea bit his lip, using his free hand to lift your chin. He caught your gaze with his, his brown eyes endlessly warm and inviting. “Maybe because I’m already more than a little in love with you? And I have been for years.”

Your lips parted in a surprised gasp, and you could have sworn all the air was sucked out of the room. His hand was still tightly holding yours, though, and the feel of his fingertips on your chin was like an anchor, holding you solidly in place. “Sweet Pea—I—are you serious?”

“Of course, I’m serious,” he murmured, his blush returning. “You’re beautiful, smart, funny, and one of my best friends in the entire world. And I feel like an idiot for waiting this long to admit it, but I’d really love for us to be more than friends.”

Your heart thundered in your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Well, I love you, too, Sweet Pea.”

His lips split into a wide grin, and he dropped his hand from your jaw to your wait, tugging you even closer to him. “Does that mean you’ll go to the ball with me?”

“I’d love to.” You lifted your hands to Sweet Pea’s shoulders, nearly pulling yourself onto his lap. Your eyes drifted shut as his lips pressed into yours, warm and inviting and absolutely electric. Sparks radiated through your body, and everything felt like it was on fire—his hands on your waist, his lips on yours. For a moment, everything else faded away, and all that was left was you and him.

Then, you pulled back, breathless. Sweet Pea was still smiling, pulling you into a tight hug. “I love you,” he whispered. “And I’m going to throw Dilton and Kurtz and all their shit potions off the Astronomy Tower.”

You bit back a laugh, slapping him lightly on the back. “Sweet Pea, you can’t just go tossing people off the Astronomy Tower!”

“Wanna bet?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, be sure to let me know!


End file.
